


Bad guy

by TheIceQueen



Series: Sam's blue book [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Dean Winchester, Blood, Blood and Injury, Burns, Fear, Fear of being tied up, Gen, Hallucinating Sam Winchester, Hallucination Lucifer (Supernatural) | Hallucifer, Hallucinations, Holding Hands, Hurt, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Medical, Medical Procedures, Merinthophobia, Needles, Pain, Protective Dean Winchester, Restraints, Scars, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, Spoilers, Stitches, Tied-Up Sam Winchester, fear of restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 11:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Sam is hurt badly and the only person in Sam's book who they can reach does not make either of them feel at ease.That Sam's wall is broken brings a whole other layer of problems.Timeline is in the beginning notes, because of spoilers up to middle of season 7.





	Bad guy

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline:   
> Between when Cas breaks the wall (6x22) and when Bobby dies (7x10)
> 
> Written for:  
> Dean and Sam Bingo: Angst

”Dean, we don’t know this guy.”

Dean looked at Sam in the rear-view mirror. He was amazed that he was still awake with the amount of blood spread over the warehouse floor and now on Baby’s backseat.

“We don’t know 90 % of the names in your book, but they’re there for a reason.”

The cut on Sam’s leg was deep and Dean couldn’t patch it up by himself, and Sam was in so much pain that Dean had had to sit on him to bandage it. But that wasn’t the reason for Dean’s worry; Sam never reacted like this before. He was never scared of strangers if they could help. But that was before his wall crumbled. Now Sam was weird around pain; it was like it was worse to him, like he was scared of the pain itself and not the reason or the possible outcome of the injury.

“It’s not safe, just patch me up. Dean please.”

Dean turned down the small gravel road by the mailbox showing the right number. “It’s all good. I called Bobby about him, remember?”

Dean had picked the name in the book, because he was only 15 minutes off but, besides the address, all he knew was that his name was Fred Albert and Bobby had said that the guy had helped Rufus way back. When Dean had asked if he was a doctor of some sort, Bobby had said that he was a “quick thinker” who knew what to do. It was vague but it was all they were going to get.

Sam growled in pain when Dean brought the Impala to a full stop in front of the small farm house. “Sorry Sammy.”

Dean got out and opened the door by Sam’s feet, but the sight changed his mind. He wasn’t able to get Sam out himself without the bandage coming off, and Sam was already turning a pale grayish color.

“Hang in there. I’ll get someone.”

Running to the door Dean hoped with every cell in his adrenaline filled body that someone was home. Before he reached the door he was faced with a more than well-built, black man who looked like he’d just woken up.

“And who are you?”

“Dean. My brother is hurt.”

The man gazed over Dean’s shoulder and to the open door in the car. Then he looked back at Dean. “And you want to borrow a phone to call for an ambulance?”

He put his hands on his hips and placed himself in the middle of the door. Dean wasn’t sure he would even be granted a phone call from this man.

“No sir. I ehm…” Mentioning Rufus to anyone was always a hit or miss result, but he didn’t see any other way. Sam was bleeding through the bandage while Dean was wasting time with this man.

“You what? There has to be a reason for you racing in here, messing up the gravel and waking me up.”

Dean looked back at the driveway that looked like a tractor had gone through every day for a year. It was 4 pm so it might be healthy for the guy to wake up anyway.

“I was told that you helped a hunter once… Rufus Turner.”

The man’s stern and annoyed face dropped. “That was years back… So you’re _hunters_?”

“Yeah.” Dean was already turning and taking the first slow steps back towards Sam. “Can you help?”

A deep sigh escaped the man as he looked back inside the house. He turned and nodded. “Okay, then. Get him in here.”

The man disappeared through the open door and left Dean alone. He’d had to get Sam up and in there by himself, he was not pressing his luck with this guy. He could really had used those broad shoulders and huge muscles to help, Dean was sure Fred could have lifted Sam on his shoulder.

* * *

“Dean it’s not a good idea.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s lower arm and was surprised that Sam did the same. “We don’t have another option.”

It wasn’t easy, but eventually Dean got Sam hauled far enough towards him that Sam’s feet touched the muddy gravel. Dean pulled Sam’s arm over his own shoulders and held tight.

“Ready?”

Sam took a deep breath, held it in and nodded. All the air bursted out in a scream as Sam got up on one wobbly leg. There had to be something more than a flesh wound going on. Was this farmer equipped to handle what ever this was? Maybe they should have taken the chance with the five hour drive to the next name in the book. He was a real doctor, or at least used to be one.

“Hang on, Sammy.” Dean started walking, almost carrying all of Sam’s weight.

Sam growled and yelped every few seconds and coughed when he would choke on the air moving too fast. Dean wasn’t sure they were going to make it up the three steps in front of the door but somehow Sam stayed awake through the pain and the anemia.

“In here!”

Dean turned left as soon as they entered the house. The dining room was clearly not used to eating. All the surfaced was covered in clutter and dust. The only thing clean was the big table in the middle of the room. Fred must have just cleaned it, there was a pile of old books and newspapers in the corner, that looked like it had just been moved.

Sam had been right. This _was_ as bad idea, but Sam was getting heavier and hadn’t tried to get back out, at the sight of the unkept house. Dean focused on the sturdiness of the table and that the man had washed the surface.

“Well, get him up here so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

Sam seemed confused by the movement, but soon caught up to being laid on the table. He looked around and Dean hadn’t thought that it was possible for Sam to tense further. The man next to Sam’s bleeding leg started to cut the bandage.

“Wait…” Sam locked eyes with Dean and shook his head. “Dean?”

Shit! Was he seeing things again? “It’s me. Sammy don’t do this now.”

Dean knew it wasn’t _things_ Sam saw, but right now he needed to believe that Sam trusted that it was him in there in the room with him and not… anyone else.

“I know, Dean. I’m good.”

Dean’s lungs let out the air he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding in.

“Okay, good.” Dean took both of Sam’s hands in his and looked in his eyes. “If you’re suddenly _not good_ you say something, so I can bring you back.”

“Is he in his right mind?”

Dean ignored the man until Sam had agreed with a nod and a smile.

“He’s okay.” Dean stood up and looked down Sam’s leg, the bandage seemed to have made the bleeding slow down a bit even now after it was off. “What do you need? Can you fix him?”

Fred leaned in closer to the wound, which was still partially covered by parts of Sam’s jeans. He lifted some of denim away and Sam gasped loudly and bend his leg, which only resulted in him almost tearing off Dean’s arm.

“Easy Sammy, easy now.”

Dean held Sam’s torso on the table and placed one hand on his forehead. Sam shook his head. “Don’t!”

Fred pulled Sam’s ankle and stretched his leg. Sam screamed louder than he’d done all day, but Dean was already holding his chest and Fred wasn’t letting go. “You have to lay still, if I’m going to have any luck fixing this.”

“Dean! Don’t…” Sam gasped too fast and got stuck in a cough.

“Sam. You’ve been through worse. Let him help.”

Sam grabbed Dean’s upper arm and talked quieter and Dean could hear every tremor in his voice. “Don’t hold me down. Dean…” The fear was pressing tears to the edge of Sam’s eyes. “He’s going to tie me up. I can’t…”

“No, Sam.” Dean sent Sam a comforting smile. “You’re good.”

“Actually…” The man on the other side of the table was looking into the hallway. “I don’t have anything for the pain but Balkan, and I prefer to use that to clean this mess. I need rope for this.”

Dean wasn’t sure what he hated the most; that Sam was already pulling his arm harder or that the man in front of him showed no emotion what so ever. But Fred was right; that vodka would do better as antiseptic than pain killer. Alcohol like that would make Sam’s blood to thin. He took a deep breath and build a smile before looking down at his little brother’s pale face and frightened eyes.

“Okay, Sammy. We’re going to get you through this. You’re fine, you hear?”

Sam nodded but he clearly didn’t believe a word Dean was saying. After Sam’s wall broke, he’d been claustrophobic, more than Dean was when he came back from hell, but Sam _had_ been there longer. His soul had anyway.

Fred came back with two long ropes and started on Sam’s hips and thighs. Sam shifted and pushed every movement, but, while hating every second, Dean held him on the table. When the rope was tightly around his hips, it didn’t take Fred long to secure him to the table. The same with his thighs.

Sam fought Fred when he started on the ankles. With Sam’s middle already completely immobile, the strong man could manage on his own and Dean could concentrate on getting Sam’s attention, which wasn’t easy.

Sam’s head was raced and he fought Dean’s hold on his chest, just to see what was happening. Dean wasn’t sure Sam could see anything at all with the amount of tears spilling over his face.

“Sammy?!” Dean struggled to keep both of Sam’s hands under one of his and using the other to turn Sam’s face towards himself. “Sam! Look at me.”

Sam shook his head and tired to get up again. Dean changed tactics and grabbed both of Sam’s shoulders, pressing him down and looking straight down at him.

“Sam! Stop!”

Sam looked up at Dean and with wild eyes and even wilder breathing, Sam connected with Dean’s eyes.

“Listen. You’re good. You’re here with me. You’re with Dean!”

For a second Dean wasn’t sure Sam had understood any of that, but then he nodded. He relaxed his upper body and let his head rest on the hard surface.

“I know this sucks, but it’s not for long.” Dean squeezed Sam’s shoulders a bit tighter. “Are you going to lie still if I let go?”

Sam’s eyes were still locked at Dean’s when he nodded slowly.

“Say it. Sammy, I need to know you understand.”

Sam took a deep breath and it seemed to Dean that the rapid breathing got a bit slower. “I’m here. I won’t freak out.”

Dean smiled and loosened his grip slowly.

“You two quite done? He’s still loosing blood here; I wouldn’t recommend prolonging this through another fit.”

Dean was going to punch this man’s jaw so hard he would need an ambulance himself, but not until he had fixed Sam’s wound.

Sam grabbed on to Dean’s arm and Dean held Sam’s shoulder and other hand. The brothers nodded at each other and Dean gave the go-ahead to the farmer.

The scream filling the room almost tore Dean’s legs out from under him and Sam’s grip almost tore his arms from their sockets. Sam inhaled sharply and ended in a few gags that had Dean questioning if he could turn Sam far enough the way he was bound.

“Sammy, breathe!”

The pain from the vodka subsided and Sam’s coughs and gags turned in to rapid pants for air. Dean moved his hand from the shoulder and placed it firmly on Sam’s chin turning his face towards him.

“You here?”

Sam nodded and Dead loosened his white fingers around Sam’s blue.

Fred came closer to Sam’s head and for the first time looked at his face. Sam seemed frightened by the stern look on the shabby man, but Dean would be too, if he was in Sam’s situation.

“That you’re tied up doesn’t mean that you can fight everything I’m about to do. The rope is just so I don’t hurt you or the other way around. You need to lie still or this won’t work.”

Sam nodded and kept looking at the man till he sat down and was out of sight. Dean didn’t sit down. He was going to be right there over Sam the entire time. He would be the only thing Sam would see and Dean would use every second making sure Sam was with him.

Sam arched his neck and with eyes squeezed shut he growled loudly and long. Dean looked down at the leg; Fred had a scissor-like plier deep in the flesh and used something pointy with an electrical cord with the other hand. Dean wished that the man would at least have used gloves. Sam’s hand moved higher on Dean’s arm and pulled harder. Dean turned back and looked down into huge eyes begging for it to stop.

“Dee…” Sam gasped and shook with a new pain spreading through his body.

“Shh Sammy, you’re doing great.”

Sam shook his head before he squeezed his eyes again and growled loudly. Dean hoped this wouldn’t take long, but it had only been a minute and he knew it would take a long time to patch up that leg, so he started hoping for Sam to pass out, soon. The smell of burning flesh filled the room; Fred was cauterizing bleedings. Maybe he could knock Sam out?

* * *

“C’mon, breathe, Sammy.”

Sam kinda managed a breath that was more than a pant, but that changed when he opened his eyes. A split second after he’d focused on Dean, fear and shock spread from his eyes and over his face. Sam let go of Dean and fought him when he tried to get a hold on him again.

“No, get away!”

“Sammy, it’s alright.”

Sam shook he head but didn’t take his eyes off Dean.

Dean’s heart dropped and he took a step back. He couldn’t do anything if Sam thought that he was _him_. Holding his hands or face would make it worse, even talking could get twisted in his head.

“Stop!” Sam looked down at himself and seemed shocked that he was tied up. “What are…? No!”

“Hey, lie still!” Fred held Sam’s ankle with one hand and looked angrily as Sam and then at Dean.

Everything Dean did in this moment could push Sam over the edge and make him break completely, but it wasn’t only his mind on the line here. He needed to make Sam understand so he could get this bleeding stopped. With Sam pulling away as much as he could Dean fought to get hold on his hand. He pressed hard on the scar on Sam’s hand.

“Sammy! It’s Dean, remember?!”

The scar had almost healed completely and Sam only fought harder to get away. Sam wasn’t able to speak anymore. Dean felt physically ill to his stomach watching and listening to Sam gagging with cries almost getting through.

Dean looked over the room and down Sam’s body. The had to be something he could do to get though to Sam. The pain on his open leg wasn’t helping, if it was that or the feeling of restraints making Sam snap he didn’t know. The pliers was hanging from the hole in Sam’s leg and Fred was holding his ankle with one hand keeping the burning device away from the area.

“Give me that.”

Fred looked from Dean’s hand extended towards him and to the object in his own. “This is getting ridiculous; you know that right?”

“Give it!”

Fred handed him the plastic handle at the end of the cord and Dean didn’t pause to reconsider before he pressed the thin metal burner firmly over Sam’s scar.

Sam gasped and his eyes shifted rapidly to the hand.

“Sam! It’s me Dean. Get him out of here!”

Sam tried to pull his hand away but Dean held it tight under the device sizzling into his palm. “Look at me!”

It looked like Sam was going to pass out from lack of air every second now, but Dean had no other choice than to keep going. If he were to stop now he’d just given Lucifer a weapon to hurt Sam even more.

“Here, Sammy!” Dean got close to Sam’s face making sure that he would see him. “It’s Dean! Look at me!”

Sam’s eyes squinted a little at Dean and after a quick glance back at his shaking hand, Sam looked Dean in the eyes.

“Dean?” It was almost only air from a raw throat, but Dean understood him completely clearly.

“Yeah, Sammy. It’s me.”

Sam hissed and pulled harder on his hand. They both looked at it. Dean was sure that if he were to do this any longer he would make real damage.

“Is he gone?”

Sam nodded and Dean figured that the attempt of eye contact and smile was to reassure him and the reason that it failed was due to the pain. Dean removed the device and quickly handed it back to Fred who was standing still, just waiting. Sam’s breathing calmed down slightly, but his eyes were shedding tears in a pace where he couldn’t possibly see anything. Dean used a calm hand cupped his chin and held Sam’s hurt hand on his other.

Sam sniffled and cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

“All good.” Dean brushed Sam’s hair out of his face and caught a few tears as he took his hand away. “Do I still have horns or should we get this over with?”

“Okay.” Sam sent Dean a small smile not hiding that he was not sure about this situation at all.

Dean wasn’t sure either, but they had just dodged a bullet, and now the only point of pain that reminded Sam of reality, was back.

* * *

“He’s not possessed or something, is he? If that thing takes over, the ropes won’t hold. I’m not having that in here.”

Dean looked at the man big enough to possible scare away a demon. “No he’s not possessed; your house is safe.” He took Sam’s hurt hand in both of his and Sam grabbed Dean’s lower arm with his good. “We’re good again.”

The man shook his head and sat down again and Sam’s grip tensed as soon as Dean saw a small amount of smoke rising from the wound.

“Dean…” Sam gasped again. “I can’t, he’s…”

“No, Sammy.” Dean moved Sam’s other hand to hold on to the hurt one. Dean pressed Sam’s own thumb on the burn and wrapped his hands around the grip. “You’re good. You’re with me.”

Sam nodded. They heard Fred move around and after Sam’s eyes demanding it, Dean looked at the commotion. All the unknown things were gone and Fred was unwrapping an old suture kit. It looked like one their dad had used when he’d gotten home hurt and demanded that Dean had taken Sam out to keep the secret of the job.

“Only stitches left. You can do that.”

Sam loosened his grip on himself a little and took a couple of deeper breaths. Dean sought confirmation with the man at the other end of the table, but Fred already held the vodka close to the wound. Dean only had time to hold Sam’s hand firmer before the fluid ran over and into Sam’s leg.

Sam’s head knocked back into he table as his neck arched to the point where his scream couldn’t get through anymore.

“Sammy!”

Dean couldn’t hold both of Sam’s hands and let the good one grab on to the edge of the table while he bored his fingers into the burn and grabbed Sam’s shoulder with his other hand.

Sam’s body was tense and shaking for longer than Dean felt comfortable with. He wasn’t sure Sam was getting air and he was starting to shake. In a second the scene changed and Sam fell flat on his back. Limb, with closed eyes and his breathing slowly calming down.

“Finally.” Fred was already holding the needle, too big to let Dean look at it for long.

“Finally?! What is that supposed to mean? And what the hell is with the no warnings?!”

Fred didn’t look up from his work as he spoke. “The pain threshold on your brother is unreal, any other guy would have passed out from this wound before you got him in the house.”  He cut the thread and started on another stich inside the wound. “Warnings make people tense up, it’s not great when working so close to a big muscle. Besides, they take time.”

Dean looked at Sam’s face already supported, from dropping to the side, by Dean’s hand. He was humming and moving a bit from pain, but nothing to indicate that he was waking up anytime soon. Dean let Sam’s head lean slowly to the side and turned to remove a box filled with cans from a chair and pulling it close. He tore a pocked from his flannel, it had to have been the cleanest thing in here, and held it against Sam’s burned palm. Sam hummed louder and turned his head towards the hand.

“Shh, Sammy.” Dean turned Sam’s face back, with a loose hold on his chin. He buried his hand in Sam’s hair to hold his head steady. “You’re okay, just relax for a bit.” Sam calmed down and for a while it almost looked like he was just sleeping and felt no pain.

The next time Sam tried to turn his head the movement was accompanied with a small whimper and a firmer grip on Dean’s hand.

“Relax, you’re good.” Dean looked at Sam’s leg. Fred was starting on the outer stitches, they were bound to hurt, with that thick needle going through and the skin and sutures stretching over the wide wound.

Sam gasped and his eyes sprung open for half a second before he was gone to the world again.

“It’s okay. Almost done, Sammy. Hang on for just a bit more.” Dean wasn’t sure Sam could hear him or if it was his imagination that Sam relaxed when the talked. He needed Sam to hang on, or more importantly; he needed him to stay passed out till Fred was done.

* * *

“You wanted a warning. I’m giving you warning.” Fred held up the bottle again. Why the hell wasn’t that empty yet?

Dean stood up and held tight on the torn flannel over the burn and pressed Sam’s shoulder to the table with his other hand. His wound was closed; this couldn’t be as bad as before. Still, Dean wasn’t taking any chances.

Sam whined and turned his head all the way to one side. The whine ended in a deep pained growl which had him couching. His neck, arms and legs relaxed but Sam’s lungs were working overtime to pull in air, even when his eyes opened and locked on Dean over him.

“Sam?” Dean pulled Sam’s hand up to his own chest and took Sam’s chin. “You with me?”

Sam nodded, but not a second more went by before he tried to shift his hip and when he couldn’t he tried to move his legs.

“Dean…? What?”

“Hey, Sammy. Calm down, we can take them off.”

Sam tried to look down but with his still speeding breath now going even faster he couldn’t muster up the control to do so.

“No! Dean, not this…!” Sam looked around the room, and Dean had trouble holding his face upwards. “I can’t. This it not… You can’t tie me down!”

“Sammy, look at me. We can take them off, but you need to stop fighting.”

Sam’s head was frantically turning back and forth, most likely trying to find anything to help him in this situation.

“Dean! Please!”

Dean let Sam’s hand drop and used both of his hands to try and hold his little brother’s head steady. It wasn’t quite working; Sam’s eyes was all over the place. At least Sam knew that he was there, that he was Dean and not some delusion. He was still close to hyperventilation though, he could end up passing out again, and then they would just have the same outcome later.

“Let me go! Dean, this… this… I…”

Dean felt his hand burning before he realized what he’d just done. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever slapped Sam that hard over the face. Sam’s body froze, his lungs stopped completely and his eyes were locked on Dean’s above him.

“Sammy?” Dean wasn’t sure how to read Sam’s eyes. Confusion; definitely. Shock; maybe, but no fear, not anymore. “Sammy. Talk to me.”

It helped Dean’s lungs a bit to see Sam take an almost normal breath.

“I’m okay.”

Dean’s legs almost caved under him, but he felt that he was successful in hiding it, by his hand taking Sam’s forearm. Sam looked down his own body and then looked at Dean.

Dean moved a strand of damp hair from Sam’s forehead. “Remember?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I know, Sammy. We can take them off, but you can’t move your leg just yet.”

Sam agreed and Dean helped Fred untie the ropes. It didn’t take many seconds for Sam to get seated. Even though Dean tried to convince him to lie down a bit longer, Dean also knew that this may be the best way for Sam to get back to his normal self. If he had a normal self anymore.

* * *

The pained grimaces and the fact that Sam was holding his breath half of the time, only confirmed Dean that the walk to the car was done too soon. Sam had been ready to leave as soon as the bandage was on and he could focus on the outline of the door, and Fred had seemed okay with that. Sam’s hurt leg didn’t touch the ground, the other almost didn’t either. Fred had decided to help, most likely to get Sam out of his house quickly, he didn’t seemed convinced that Sam wasn’t holding down some evil. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Good?” Dean looked into the back of the Impala and watched Sam get situated. He breathed a bit easier now that he had his leg up.

“I’m good.”

Dean thanked the man and apologized for the mess in the hallway and dining room. Fred had indicated that he normally wouldn’t clean after _guests_ but it was probably best for them to get going. He’d even given them some antibiotics, which Dean was sure Sam was going to need, and some other supplies. Dean dropped the bag on the seat next to him and sped out the driveway and on to the gravel road.

“How are you holding up back there?”

“Better.” Sam sounded more than just tired. “What’s in the bag?”

“Antibiotics, which you’re popping half of when we find some water, and bandages and suture kits. I’m sure he wants us to be able to handle any complications.” Dean smiled to himself. “You know, I don’t think he want to see us again.”

“Well, I never want to see him again either.”

Dean looked in the rear-view mirror. Sam was staring out the window by his feet he was getting some color back, but with the sad eyes and deep frown, Sam’s face were no comfort to Dean. If he could only promise Sam that he would never again have to see either of the men he’d just fought off.


End file.
